Chocolates on St Valentine's Day
by Scrollwork
Summary: Sam Puckett hates Valentine's day, and there's no one that can change that. Broken-hearted, she holds a rose in her hand, one from an unknown admirer. Things may change for the better. A story written for Valentine's Day. One-shot.


**A/N: Hello, I come bearing a new story for you all to read. It may be a little long, but I hope that you will read through it all, regardless of whether it takes a few visits. I wrote this from the heart, and think that it is worth a read.**

**This one-shot was, obviously, written for Valentine's Day. I hope that everyone had a nice one, and will enjoy this piece. As usual, please review, and let me know what you think. I read every one of them, and they mean the world to me. Thank you, and please enjoy.  
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Chocolates on St. Valentine's Day-

She looked over at the calendar, which elicited a groan from her. Was it truly that day again? Never again, she had decided, would she give the day such heed. At least, not after what had happened the last time. Truth be told, she rarely had luck with boys in general, not on just the one day. Really, most things just didn't work out for her. Sometimes they would try to cheat on her, get between her and her best friend, or told her that they liked her the way she was, only to leave her because they couldn't handle her. In fact, she had begun to surmise that there was not a man on earth that could handle her. None of the boys that she knew were really 'man' enough for her. Perhaps, though, there were just no men willing to put up with her. Maybe, she really was too wild, too abrasive.

They had been together for several months, her boyfriend and she, when things had unravelled. At first, everything had gone smoothly. He, the name of whom she vowed never to utter again, had come up to her locker while she was placing books in her bag. She never really used them for class; she had merely needed some weight with which to pummel her technical producer. He had smiled at her, and all her malicious plans had disappeared. She had thought him cute, though really, she would classify him more under 'hot'. Yes, he had definitely been hot, and a senior as well. He had earned major points in her book. Asking her out, he had flashed his perfect white teeth. Immediately, she had said 'yes', and thus it had begun. They had become an item soon after.

She had been quite happy, for it was the longest relationship she had ever had. The entire school had eventually heard of it, and they had been to say the least, surprised. So had she. They would go to the movies, where he would wrap his arm around her. He'd pull her close as she would munch away on a large bucket of popcorn that he had offered to purchase for her. Not that she would ever have any money on her with which to buy it in the first place. He would go with her to the Groovy Smoothie, where they would both make fun of the other customers and swat away a hard-selling T-Bo. He had taken her on rides in his perfectly restored, classic, green Charger. There had always been something about guys with nice cars that she could never ignore. They had spent time walking in the park, and having dinners on his father's very large boat. It was something that she liked a great deal, but would rarely, if ever, admit. Of course, she admitted it to Carly. She told everything to Carly. Freddie, well, not so much. Not that she really cared what the nub thought. Her best friend had been ecstatic at how serious things had become, practically wanting to pick out fine china.

She had thought that things were becoming serious as well. He had told her things he had never told anyone, and she him. They had pulled pranks, and broke laws, and he never said for her to stop being herself. After a few months, she thought herself in love with him. She told him so, and he told her that he loved her too. Fear had overwhelmed her then, the fear of rejection. That had been quelled when he had taken her hand, saying that he loved her and only her, flashing his seductive smile. Seduced she was. Things then had become increasingly intimate between them, and it wasn't long after that, when she had suggested that they take their relationship to the next level. Looking back, she wondered if it had actually been her idea at all.

She had been scared that night. Truly scared. Fear was a rare occurrence for her, and she hadn't expected it. She usually jumped head-first into new experiences, into first times. That night had been different. His embrace, his soothing words, they had made her feel calmer. She had a slight inkling that he had said those words before. Before she had realised it, she had been laid on the bed, her clothes strewn across the room. She wondered when exactly it had happened. He had covered her in kisses and 'I love you's. Awaking afterwards, she had looked over to see him slumbering. She had stared at the ceiling for a moment, feeling that something had been missing. She hadn't known what it was at the time, but she had still gathered her clothes and run home. From then on, he had become more distant. She thought that she had done something wrong. Maybe that had been the source of the empty feeling, she had done something wrong. She had tried to become more available to him, hoping to learn how to please him, so that he would once again become close to her. He had never turned her down when she had suggested sex. She had really loved him, and hadn't wanted to lose him. She'd been willing to do anything that he had wanted, and she had.

Things had seemingly gone back to normal between them. However, since the night in which they had consummated their relationship, it had seemed as though everything they did had eventually ended up with the two in bed. She had become concerned that that had turned into the mainstay of what they were. He had replied that they were expressing their growing love in a physical way, to which she had reluctantly agreed. He had reminded her of how much he loved her, and she had relegated all doubts to the back of her mind, intending to truly enjoy being with the boy she loved. She had been happy again.

Everything had changed for her when St. Valentine's Day had come around. She had been excited, their first Valentine's together. She had planned to let loose her feminine side by making him dinner. Well, buying a dinner and setting it up at his house. Having had purchased a beautiful white off-the-shoulder dress for the evening, with heels to match, she had driven over to his house to meet him. Pulling up onto his driveway, she had heaved a large bag of food that she had brought for the dinner. Once thing that she had loved about him was that he didn't cringe when she would eat as slovenly as she did. Even with copious amounts of ham products grasped in both hands. Of course, that night would have been different. She hadn't wanted to get the dress covered in food stains. It was, after all, dry-clean only. She had tried knocking on his door, but to no avail. She had rung the doorbell too, but got nowhere. Looking at the small watch that had lightly encircled her slim wrist, she had noticed that she had arrived early. The thought had crossed her mind that maybe he hadn't come home yet. She had then walked over to his garage to see if his car was gone. Peering through the side window, she had spotted his car.

The green Charger had stood there, rocking slightly. Suspecting that something was amiss, she had taken out a hairpin and picked the lock. Her heels had clicked lightly as she stepped towards the car. She could hear voices, and a feminine one calling out his name. Eyes widening, she had bit her lip.

The occupants of the vehicle had not expected the large amount of food that had slammed into the side of the car. He had come out, mostly naked, and surprised at the sight of her. He had told her that he would explain, while the other girl had cowered inside the car. She recalled that she had calmly strolled by a workbench, tracing her fingers along the tools, as he had tried to talk his way out of his predicament.

While his words had landed on deaf ears, she had stood in front of the car, looking through to the backseat where a girl she hadn't known shivered in fear. He had once taken her in that backseat as well. She wondered how many girls he had been with in that car. She also remembered calling him 'a bastard' and smashing his windshield with the weapon she had chosen, a large metal pipe. She had begun to destroy his precious Charger piece by piece, knocking off the mirrors and breaking all the windows. The brutal beating had been interrupted by swings aimed at him whenever he would try to stop her. The attack had eventually shifted completely to him, resulting in him gripping a broken arm. Dropping the pipe, she had kicked him as hard as she could in the groin, telling him to never speak to her again. She had then left, not looking back, leaving him curled on the cold concrete.

She looked out the window, heaving a sigh. Reliving that moment was not how she had wanted to start off that morning. She had stopped dating since that night. She never looked at any boys, she just wasn't interested. Carly and Freddie had tried to lift her spirits, doing their best to make her forget about him. It didn't work. How can you forget having your heart broken? She had vowed to never get her heart broken again, which meant never falling in love again. It hurt her too much. Getting changed, she dreaded the day ahead. There wasn't anything to do about that, though, for Carly was expecting her over at Bushwell Plaza. As she stepped outside, she thought of him again, and that night. When she had first given herself to him, she had felt something missing. She now realised that it was because his kisses had been empty, his words had been empty, and so _she_ had been empty. An entire year later, and she had yet to be filled. She came to a conclusion.

Sam Puckett hated Valentine's Day.

...

Freddie lounged on the couch in the Shay apartment as he waited for Carly to get herself ready for school. He had no idea why he had come over early that morning. She was always on time, exactly on time, for school. Coming early merely meant that he was forced to wait longer. Then, of course, they still had to wait for Sam. She was always running late. Sometimes it was a task to put up with them. Then again, they were both his best friends, and he couldn't help but love the two. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and turned to see his first crush. She was lovely, as per usual. She smiled down at him, and he up at her.

"Hey, Carly."

She walked over and leant against the couch, propped up on the back by her elbows. "And how are you today, Freddie?" She gave him a small smirk.

He really did love her smile, he always did, and he always would. He still loved her, but he knew that nothing would come of it. They still flirted on occasion, although they had come to an understanding a while ago. She always seemed to have a boyfriend nowadays, anyway. He could have never have found an 'in'. All the guys were after her, really. Both she and Sam seemed to be popular with the boys at school, though they each handled it differently. Besides, there was a current obstacle in his way.

"Going to spend time with Gary today?"

"Why, jealous?"

He made sure to lock eyes with her before rolling them. "No, I know that I'm already going to be your second husband, why be jealous?"

"Uh huh." She nudged him with her nearby elbow. He smiled up at her. Walking around to the front of the couch, she dropped down on the cushion next to him. "Yeah, he's taking me on a nice, romantic evening out. It _is_ Valentine's Day, after all."

He let loose a small snort. "I have no idea why he ever asked you out."

"I happen to be a very desirable girl, for your information."

He let out another one. "Yeah, I know. I just meant, he usually goes out with more 'developed' girls, that's all." He kept staring at the television, noting their reflection in it.

Her jaw dropped at his jab. "Hey! I'm _still_ getting curvier everyday!"

He turned over to her and smiled his genuine smile. "I know, I know. And I'm _still_ noticing."

"Hey, eyes where I can see them, buster."

"I don't mind looking into your eyes forever."

That time, it was her turn to snort. He really was such a dork. They both started to lightly laugh. Though, her life wouldn't be the same without him, or Sam. She began to feel a little down. Freddie noticed her expression change, and he did not hesitate to find out what was wrong.

"Hey, Carly, are you okay?"

She was staring into her lap, pondering what to say. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just, you know, Sam."

"What was that?" He was a little confused. "What did she do?"

"Nothing, she did nothing."

He was beginning to get worried. "Did something happen? Is she okay?" He twisted around on the seat, hunching down to try and see her face.

"No, she's fine. It's just that, it's Valentine's Day."

The realisation hit him. "Right. Last year, with her boyfriend."

"_Ex_-boyfriend."

"Yeah, ex-boyfriend." Sam had told them both about that night, and what had happened. Although, he had a feeling that there was something that she had neglected to tell them.

"She had been so _sad_ after he cheated on her. She was really in love with him."

"Yeah, she really was… in love… with him." There was a part of him that didn't want to admit it, even if it were true, but that guy had been her first love. When they had begun to go out, he had hated the guy immediately. He had been told that he was jealous, which he had vehemently denied. Something about her suitor had troubled him in the pit of his stomach, and he knew the senior was no good. He broke her heart, and Freddie would never forgive him.

"You think she'll be all right?" She finally raised her head to look over at him.

He looked into her eyes, seeing that she needed some sort of comfort. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, he nodded to himself. "Yeah, she'll be fine. She's got us."

Carly put her head on his shoulder. "I hope so."

He leant his head against hers, whispering into her hair, "Me, too."

The door to the apartment opened up. They were so preoccupied with concern for their friend, that they didn't notice said friend enter the room. She walked in silently, doing her best not to make a sound. She felt as though she wanted to be invisible, so she'd try her best to do just that. Then, she saw them there. She swallowed hard. _What's he doing with his arm around her?_ she thought to herself. She felt a little unnerved at the thought that they might be cuddling, might be together. Carly had a boyfriend, right? What about the dork? He was still single, wasn't he? Wait, what did she care if he were single, or not? She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts floating around. Taking a deep breath, she held herself up straight. "Looks like Cupid's been busy, and it's only morning."

Both brunettes jumped up, startled, with slight blushes in their cheeks. They looked at each other, and then back at her. Carly was the first to speak. "Sam! You're here."

The blond crossed her arms. "Yeah, I am." She raised an eyebrow at the two of them, suspiciously. "Am I too late for the snuggle-fest?"

"Sam…" Freddie rubbed the back of his head.

"I have a boyfriend, Sam. Gary Wolf, remember?" Carly cocked her head to the side, an displeased expression on her face.

"Hey, I didn't say anything."

He walked up to her. "Nothing was going on, Sam. Honest."

"Whatever," she said as she rolled her eyes. Though, for some reason, she was secretly relieved. "Anyway, we need to get to school. Let's go." She motioned for the door, which was still open, then made as to leave.

"Since when have you cared about getting to school?" His tone was inquisitive.

"None of your business, Freddork."

Carly stepped between them. "Look, Sam, we're just worried about you."

"Why should you guys worry about me?" Her response had a sound of dejection to it.

"We're your friends, Sam." She walked over and gave the blond a hug. "We know that Valentine's must be tough for you. We just want you to know that, we're here for you." She let go and gave her a reassuring smile. Unfortunately, Sam wasn't reassured.

Freddie came up, arms outstretched, with a sympathetic smile on his face. "We'll always be here for you, Sam." As he approached, she twitched, and punched him in the shoulder. The same shoulder that Carly had been leaning on.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Too close, dork. Hands off the merchandise."

"But, I wasn't trying to touch your 'merchandise'. I was just… gah!" Throwing his hands up in defeat, he went over to the couch and grabbed his bag, along with his jacket. He walked back to the two girls, rubbing his sore shoulder.

Carly just smiled at her friends. They would never really change. "Come on, we're late already, we've got to go." She put on her light jacket as well.

"Fine," he mumbled, as he walked out the door, still rubbing his shoulder. Carly and Sam followed after him.

A dark blue, classic mustang with white racing stripes pulled up to the front of Ridgeway. Carly got out of the passenger side, allowing Sam to get out as well. They waved at Freddie, who was behind the wheel, before he went to find a parking space. Carly's wave was happy and energetic, while Sam's was lacklustre and half-hearted. The brunette grabbed Sam's hand, pulling her along. "Come on, we'll get through today. You'll be okay."

She said nothing in response, just giving her friend a weak nod. Carly, not liking what she got, gave a small squeeze. She got a squeeze back. Tugging her along, the two of them entered the large double doors of the school.

...

The day was quite long and hard for Sam. She wasn't able to get her mind off of him. Wanting desperately to forget about him and what had happened, she attempted to busy herself with actually paying attention in class. It didn't really work. She tried to find a quiet, isolated corner during lunch. Carly and Freddie still found her, though, and invited themselves to sit. They tried to keep her occupied, but it wasn't working. Carly pulled out her mobile phone and began typing on it. Who she was sending a text to, Sam had no idea. Then, Freddie picked up his phone, apparently reading a message. A grin appeared on his face. So much for being there for her. She abruptly got up, saying she had to go, and left the two with worried looks on their faces. The rest of the classes did not go much better, but she trudged through them, reluctantly. Carly's insistence, of course. She sighed as she got to her locker, the day was finally over.

She very much wanted to throw her books back into her locker, and fill her backpack up with her emergency Fatcake rations. No fat-free Fatcakes for her that day, only the real things. She was going to gorge herself to her heart's content, practising the sin of gluttony. Delicious, delicious, Fatcakes. Popping open her locker, she pulled a textbook out of her bag and raised it up to toss it in with force, but her hand stopped. She stood there, surprised, and lowered her arm. There, before her, was a single red rose. It was nestled in her locker, propped up against her unused history text. Slowly, she placed her things on the floor. Getting closer, she reached in carefully, as though it were some sort of trap. She looked at it suspiciously, wondering how it had got into her locker. On closer inspection, there was a note attached to it. Pulling it off and unfolding it, she read it out loud to herself.

"A rose for a rose." _Wow, how lame can you be?_ She noticed that it was only signed 'An Admirer'. That could have been anybody in the entire school. Even outside of the school. It could have been a hobo.

"Yo. What's up?" Freddie walked up to her, one hand in his pocket, one adjusting the strap on his bag.

"Nothing, dork." She moved over to a trash bin and dropped both the flower and the note inside.

He began to walk over to the bin. "What was that?" he asked. Before he could get there, she grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, leading him away.

"It's nothing, Fredward."

"It's not 'nothing'." He wriggled out of her grasp, rushing over to the trash and pulling out the rose. He started back to her. As she reached him, he held it up to her face. "It's a rose. A _red_ rose." He smiled.

She took it from his hand. "It's just a stupid flower." She made as to throw it back in the trash can, but just held it under her nose instead. It did indeed smell nice.

He sauntered up to her, hands in pockets. "Where did that come from, anyway?" He was right behind her; she could feel him peering over her shoulder. It wasn't that hard, he had a few inches on her. His breath grazed the side of her neck.

The smell of the rose, the heat of his breath, she shut her eyes and swallowed hard. Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she elbowed him in the ribs. "I just found it in my locker, if you need to know. Don't know how it got there."

"Well," He massaged his side. "guess it's too bad they made you take out that security system, huh?" He got up next to her. "Who gave it to you?"

"An admirer."

"Of course." He grinned at her. "That narrows it down to anyone in the school, or even outside the school."

"Or a hobo," she added. "Where's Carly?"

"She's gone with Wolf. They have a date tonight, it being Valentine's Day, and everything," he explained. "So I guess that it's just you and I riding home today."

She looked off into the distance. Abandoned on Valentine's Day, again, and stuck with Freddork. _Wonderful_. She heard jingling as Freddie took out his keys. She heard him saying 'Hurry up, let's get going'. She then picked up her bag, stuffing her reserve of snack cakes in it, and shut the door to her locker. He twirled his keys and she followed him out into the parking lot.

Freddie turned the engine over, and it roared to life. It growled as though it were trying to frighten off every other car in the lot. He pulled the car out, and rocketed down the street. He had really become quite daring recently, right about the time that he had convinced his mother to let him have something other than a Prius. It was a beautiful car, and she loved to spend time in it. She slid her hand along the upholstery; there was just something about the old muscle car. More so than any other car she had the pleasure of being in. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, she loved that blue Mustang. It was her favourite model as well, the GT500. She had loved it even before she knew she liked cars. He had restored it himself. Which, considering the tech weenie she considered him to be, impressed her quite a bit. Of course, she could have done a better job of it, but she had had other things on her mind. He had asked her to help him fix it up, she had told him that she hated him and wanted him to die. She had later regretted it, for she had actually meant it when she had said it. Why his crazy mother had let him restore a car instead of making him get a new one was beyond her.

He glanced over at her while waiting for a stoplight to change, she had her feet up on his newly polished dashboard, and she was sniffing at her rose again. He moved the car down the road, a tiny smirk on his face. Last year, she had nothing to smile about, but he vowed that year would be different. He saw that she had fallen into a trance, and probably didn't notice where they were going. That only worked in his favour, as he gently pulled into a parking space. Engaging the parking brake, he shut off the engine. She was still sitting in the passenger side seat, staring down into the depths of the flower. She didn't notice the door next to her open up, but she did feel something nudging her in the shoulder. Looking up, she saw Freddie, his hand held out for her. She laid hers on his, and he helped her out of the car. Turning to and fro, she assessed her surroundings.

"Dork, what are we doing at the park?"

"I just thought that we could make a little stop on the way home." He tugged her clear of the door, and shut it with his free hand. Her small hand grasped in his other one, he guided her over to a park bench. Motioned to do so, she sat down on the seat, and he got down next to her. They rested there, looking at the scenery. It had become fairly warm for a February day, so they didn't go back for their jackets. There were many couples in the park that day, enjoying themselves, being together. Everyone seemed to have someone, except for her. It made her feel lonely, and more disheartened. She still held the rose, while he had her other hand clasped between both of his, resting on his lap.

"I know that today's really hard for you, Sam." He did not turn to face her. "But, I want you to know that I really am here for you. I care about you… a lot."

She looked over to him, he seemed to be serious. She turned away, and they both blushed. Noticing smiling couples passing by, she yanked her hand away from his lap once she heard a 'so cute!'. He stared down at his hands, as they were all of a sudden empty. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I didn't meant to—"

"Just, hands off, all right?" She crossed her arms.

He wondered why she didn't say anything earlier. Putting it out of his mind, he attempted to get what he wanted done. "Look, you're going to have to move on. It's been a year, now. I mean, you've got a bunch of guys that want to go out with you." He gestured to the rose, which she still gripped tightly in her hand.

"I don't know who it's from. He could be a major dork, for all I know."

"Maybe he is a dork, but does that matter? He wants you as his Valentine."

"I have standards, Fredamame. Besides, this was probably some jerk messing with me." He could then hear her whisper to herself, "Who would want _me_ as a Valentine?"

"You know what? I'll be right back." He got up from the bench and dusted himself off. Not that there was any dust on him to begin with. He began to walk away from her.

She turned to follow him with her eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To the car."

"You're not gonna leave me here, are you?" The last thing she wanted was for him to strand her in the middle of the city. She did not carry bus fare. That, and well, she didn't want to be alone that day.

He spun around to face her again, hands in his pockets and a loving smile on his face. "I would never leave you, no matter what. I promise."

He was being honest, she could tell. She couldn't help but give him a small smile back, watching him walk away from her. It was not long before he started back to her. She was clutching the rose to her chest again, occasionally tilting her head down to sniff at it. She did not know why, but she just could not toss it away. There had been other boys with other flowers that had tried to tempt her. None had worked. That flower, though, she just couldn't let go of. There was something special about it. She was inhaling the scent of the rose, when she saw familiar sneakers stop in front of her feet. Looking up, she saw Freddie with his hands behind his back. She raised her eyebrow suspiciously.

"What are you doing, loser?"

"Nothing of importance." He knelt down in front of her, still hiding something behind him.

She straightened up in response. Something was definitely up. "What are you up to, Benson?"

"You wanted to know who gave you that rose, right?" He brought forth a large object, wrapped in a clear plastic, with a bright red bow stuck on top. He handed it to her, and she reached out and took it.

"These are…"

"Ribs," he finished for her. "I got them for you. They're your favourite, from that place across the street."

"Why?"

He was confused. "How should _I_ know why you like that place?"

"No, stupid, why buy me ribs?"

He chuckled. "Oh. Well, just look at the note."

She looked down to find a small piece of paper attached to the wrapping. Setting the ribs to the side, she pulled it off and unfolded it. The note read, 'Happy Valentine's Day', in the same handwriting as the note that had come with the rose. Only, this time, it was signed not with 'An Admirer' but with 'Freddie'. She looked at him in disbelief. "You put the rose in my locker?"

"Yeah." He smiled up at her. "Ribs for a rose."

"You're the one messin' with me?" She looked at him, angrily.

"What?" He hadn't expected that response. "No! I wasn't messing with you! I meant what I wrote!" She seemed to calm down a bit, so he continued. "I really meant it." He looked her in the eyes.

"Really?" She was being sceptical. She heard him let out a sigh, and saw him again smile at her.

"Sam, will you be my Valentine?" When she did not respond, his smile faded. She stood up, walking around and away from him.

"Worst prank you ever pulled, Benson," she called back to him. "I'm not stupid enough to fall for that."

He watched her walk away, but he decided to do something about it. Bolting up, he grabbed the ribs, and ran after her. He caught up to her, getting in front and blocking her path. He held out the plastic-wrapped meat product in front of her once more. He gave her a silly smile, a funny face with his eyes shut. Actually, he looked ridiculous.

She stared down at the ribs. She didn't understand. What was he up to?

"Wait, Sam." He was then serious, looking at her with his brown eyes. "Just listen to me."

"Why should I?" She saw him motion with the ribs. "Dude, it's not gonna work."

"I'm not pulling a prank on you, honest." Looking at him, he did seem to be earnest. Maybe he was telling the truth. "Please, Sam. Just listen."

"Fine." A chill wind flowed by, ruffling her light blue blouse. It was beginning to get cooler.

"Okay." Readying himself, he began. "When I said that I meant what I wrote, I meant that. So, I meant that I meant what I wrote, if that makes any sense." When she nodded, he continued. "Sam, I… I was never trying to pull a prank on you. It was never my intent. Maybe a few years ago, I might have done it, but not now. Not with what today means to you. I could never do that to you. Sam, you should know by now that I care about you. So, I just thought that you might not want to be alone today." He paused.

"Dork?" She was surprised. He was absolutely serious about it. He actually did care for her. He was there for her. Freddie had always been there for her.

"Will you be my Valentine?" He did not wait long for an answer, for she threw her arms around his shoulders. His eyes were wide as she crushed him within his green and white striped polo shirt. He had not expected her to do that, to hug him, pressing her cheek to his. A shade of red developed across his face.

She held him tightly, trying to squeeze the life out of him. There was a slight tugging of her heartstrings as she thought that maybe someone really did want her. Even if it were for just that one day. With her eyes shut, she clutched him, a large smile on her face. A shade of red developed across her face.

A minute or two went by, neither of them moved, but for different reasons. Letting go of him, she stepped back and adjusted the blue and white striped band that ran across the top of her head, holding her hair back. She looked down at her shoes, a little embarrassed at her display of emotion. At first, she stayed silent, playing with the cuffs of the white shirt that she wore underneath her blouse. She finally opened her mouth. "Sorry."

Freddie smiled at her sudden shyness. Coming up close to her, he placed his hands on her upper arms. His eyes pierced her deeply. One, two, a million shivers were felt all along her spine. Her breath hitched. "Sam, a wonderful, amazing girl like you, doesn't need to be 'sorry' for anything."

She pulled away from him abruptly, much to his surprise. She had been doing it quite a bit that day, surprising him. She shook her head at him, a disbelieving look on her face. "No, no way. Not _you_."

He didn't understand. He stared at her, confused. "What?"

She shook her head again, mouth slightly agape. Spinning around, she ran away from him, fleeing quickly out of the park. About to pursue her, he noticed something on the ground where she had once stood. He knelt down, picking up the remnants of a single red rose. She must have crushed it running away. Running away. She had just run away from him. _Run after her, stupid!_ He got up and sprinted after her. Reaching the parking lot, he took a quick look around.

He called out for her. "Sam! Sam!" When he didn't hear an answer, he ran over to his car, intending to search the city. He found her there, sitting up against the driver's door, legs held to her chest. "Sam, there you are."

"Go away, Fredlumps. Leave me alone."

"Look," He rolled his eyes. "if you really wanted to be alone, then you would have gone somewhere I wouldn't find you. You're hiding at my car, and you didn't think I'd find you here?"

"Shut up! Just, shut up!"

He realised that it was not the time for sarcasm. "Sorry." He crouched down next to her. "Really, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just, go away."

He gripped her shoulder, as gently as possible. His voice came out as a whisper. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

She looked at him, and he could see great anger in her eyes. She shoved him backwards and he fell on his backside. Getting up, she looked down at him. "You wanna know what's wrong? Why I push you away? Because you're just like _him_!" She kicked some dirt at him, and started to walk away.

"What?" He picked himself up, rushing after her. He yelled to her, "Just like who?"

She was stomping off, but he caught up to her. Seizing her arm, he reeled her around only to have her shove him away with all the strength she could. He stumbled back a bit. She stared at him, angrily. "_Him._ You're just like _him_."

He finally grasped what she had meant. He retorted loudly in disbelief. "I'm nothing like him! Why would you think that?"

"Seriously, Benson." The blond put her fists to her hips. "Cute guy, hot car, smooth talking? You think I'd fall for that again?" She leant forward at the waist. "Huh?"

"Y-you think I was up to something?" He was simply stupefied. "Why would I do that?"

"'Cause you wanted to get at something, that's what."

"What could I want?"

Her eyebrow rose, but her angry expression remained. "Don't play dumb, Benson. I know what guys want."

He could not believe that she had said that. Coming up to her, he attempted to place his hands upon her shoulders. "I would never do that to you."

Slapping his hands away from her, she backed away. "Whatever."

"Sam! I'm nothing like your old boyfriend. Whatever you think is going on, it's not. Whatever you think I have in common with him, I don't."

"So, it's not all part of your plan to get me to fu—"

"Don't say it!" There was anger in his voice. He would truly never do anything like that to her. He wondered what could possess her to draw such accusations.

She drew her slim fingers across the rear panelling of the Mustang. "He had a green Charger. An old one."

"That doesn't make us the same."

Whipping around, she leant against the car. "Yeah? Nice, beautiful car that you restored yourself, driving me around for a few months. You figured out I like old cars, thought you could start off with that…"

"No, I didn't! I—"

"Maybe, get me to 'test out the suspension' with you?"

"What? No!"

"Then Valentine's comes around, so you think you'd put a rose in my locker and with Carly out on a date, you can get me alone." He tried to interrupt her, but she merely went up and started poking him in the chest with her index finger. "You go and are all romantic, and give me ribs, and start talking all sweet with me, to get me to put out, right? You're just like him! You take me for a ride in your hot car to the park, giving me some sexy smile, telling me things that I wanna hear! You know, he had a nice car too. Had a nice backseat, really comfy. He had a great smile, couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Always knew just what to say to me."

She began to jab him harder, to the point where he was forced to grab her hand. Seized tightly by him, he flung her pointing finger, and her accusations, away from him.

A growl formed low in his throat. "Listen, Puckett, I'm nothing like him. I just wanted to help you. I got that car because I liked it, no other reason. I restored it because I wanted to. I asked you to help me rebuild it because I thought that it would help you move on. And, maybe, it'd be something that we could do together. You know, just you and I, with something special between us."

"Yeah, right."

"It's true. I didn't have some secret plan, or anything. I just wanted my friend back." He could see her eyes soften a little, he inhaled deeply. "About today, about Valentine's Day, I just wanted to do something nice for you. I swear. No ulterior motives, whatsoever."

She huffed at him. "That's what I thought about him, too. That he wasn't planning anything, but the bastard just went and cheated on me. Probably was screwing around behind my back the whole time. You know why? Because he wasn't 'man' enough to handle being with me. He couldn't keep up with me; I was too much for him, so he went around with other girls. Couldn't commit. Just like every other guy in my life, just like every other guy I've dated. Not 'man' enough."

"Is that why you haven't dated anybody for a year? Sam, I—"

"Doesn't matter anyway, right? All guys are after one thing, and only one thing. That's why I stopped going out with guys. I knew what they wanted, in the back of my head, I knew. What's the point of going out with a guy if he's just trying to get in my pants, huh? What's the point if he's not going to stick with me, huh?"

"Not all guys are like that, Sam." He was frustrated with her, frustrated with how hurt and angry she was, and frustrated that he felt so powerless to do anything about it. "You're just being paranoid!"

Her eyes opened wide, and he could see flames in them. "What? I'm not paranoid!"

"Yes, yes you are. Look, you think every guy is just like him, because you want other guys to stay away from you. You don't want to let any other guy get close to you." He grabbed her upper arms, speaking in a stern tone. "Because, you think that every guy will hurt you just like he did. You don't think you can trust any other guy, because 'they're all the same', right? You know what? There are guys like him, but there're good guys out there, too. You're just too afraid to put yourself out there, to risk getting hurt again."

She growled at him. "I am not afraid!" She shot her fist into his jaw, and he fell to the ground, stunned.

The side of his face stung, and his mind was muddled. He would have sworn that she had given him a concussion. He had been spending quite a bit of time on the ground lately. He looked around for her, finding her sitting where she had before, against his driver side door. Picking himself back up, he rubbed his jaw, then walked over to her as consciously as possible. Her head was down, knees up to her chest, her blond locks bobbing occasionally in time with a small hiccough. He put his hands into his pockets. "Hey."

"Get the hell away from me, Benson."

"Look at me, Sam." Look up, she did. She was on the verge of tears. Her lip quivered, and he wondered whether he should press her further. He had to, for her sake. "Carly and I have tried for the past year to get you out of this, but you won't budge. You are just plain stubborn, Puckett. I can't take it anymore, watching you act like everything's fine, when it isn't. Yeah, you do the show, go to school, laugh with us when we go out, but I could always tell that something was wrong. I finally figured it out today. All those things you said about no guy really being able to handle you, not being good enough, are just excuses. You think no guy would really want you, that's why you say those things. You're afraid that every guy will be just like him, and you don't care what anybody says. You use that 'not man enough' crap as an excuse. An excuse, because you're insecure. An excuse, to cover up the fact that you're afraid of one thing: That you're not wanted."

She looked up at him, letting his words and accusations descend deeply into her, to reach the one soft spot she had left. Her eyes watered, lip shaking even more than before. She launched herself at him, hitting him in the chest with her balled up fists. "You son of a bi—"

Freddie threw his arms around her, embracing her as tightly as possible. She looked up at him, remembering how tall he had become. He looked into her eyes, what he saw as deep blue pools, threatening to overflow. They did, tears streaming down her cheeks, she buried herself in him, flooding his shirt. She trembled in his arms, while he stood there to take it all in. He took in all of her anger and frustration, and her fear. In hopes that she would come to realise what she meant to him.

He felt her scream into him, the vibrations reverberating through his chest. After a lull, which stretched for quite some time, he felt more in his chest. That time, though, it was much softer. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

Pulling away, she looked up at him again. "'What did I do wrong? Why did he really cheat on me? How long was it going on?' I keep asking myself this stuff."

"Nothing," he whispered, "you did nothing wrong."

She leant her head against his shoulder, the one that she had hit that morning. "Everything was going so great with him. I thought he liked me, you know? After we started doing it, he just changed. I thought I did something wrong."

"I said, that you didn't do anything wrong." He held her closer. "He just acted distant, so that he could entice you to have sex. He probably got you to sleep with him when you weren't ready, and knew that to keep getting you in bed he had to make it seem like it was your idea. I bet he had other girls the whole time."

"He would kiss me all over."

"He covered you with kisses and lies."

"I tried to make him happy. I did everything he wanted me to do, even if I didn't want to. I did everything for him!"

"Then when he got what he wanted, or got bored of it, he didn't need you anymore."

"I loved him."

"I lo… " He caught himself before it was too late. Pausing a moment to gather his thoughts, he continued. "I just want my friend… I just want you back."

"Why did you go after me, when I ran out of the park?" She closed her eyes, a few tears slid down her cheeks still, not quite the rivers that had flowed prior.

"I lost you once, last year, I couldn't lose you again. Not again."

Her hand was placed over his chest. She could feel his heart beating faster, and faster. Maybe, it was beating that fast due to her. She began to hope that were so. He had always been there for her, and she knew it. Her boyfriend, correction, _ex_-boyfriend, had hurt her so badly, that she had tried to protect herself from all men. It was something that she would have to accept. It had led her to believe that a boy that truly cared about her could never exist. Her fingers faintly stroked his chest, and there he was. She snuggled somewhat into him, smiling.

She felt so warm in his arms, that he noticed not the sudden winter chill that had set in, nor the small crystals beginning to drift down from the sky. He didn't relinquish the girl, for fear of losing her. The fact of the matter was, he couldn't if he wanted to.

"I never cried over him, before. Until today."

"Tonight."

She opened her eyes; the sun was in the midst of setting. Grey clouds hung in the sky, but did not prevent the oranges and reds from permeating the scene. The twilight would soon make way for the night, and a quiet, cool, light wind played with her hair. "It's beautiful."

Looking down, he quietly murmured to himself, "Yes, you are." As an afterthought, he hoped that she didn't hear him. With her head tilted slightly, he could not see her smile. Whether it was due to the words he had said, or the sun at dusk before them, only she would know.

They stood there for a moment or two, the light fading. She sighed. "Getting pretty dark, huh?"

"Yeah, I should probably get you home."

"Yeah." Neither moved. "Fredward, you need your arms to drive, you know that, right?"

He had to force his arms to release her. Both taking a step back, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Umm, sorry."

"Don't worry." She smiled. "I'm not running anymore, from anything."

He returned her grin. "Come on, let's get going." He pulled out his keys, walking over to his car. She in turn went around to the passenger side. Unlocking the door, he perceived something red out of the corner of his eye. Going to the front tire, he saw that it was the red rose that had started everything that day. He picked it up. It must have been dropped earlier when he had been pushed over. Getting in the Mustang, he let her in as well. When she was seated and buckled, he made as to hand the bloom to her.

"You know, I hated you when you asked me to help you fix up the Mustang." She felt the panelling of the door, a sad air about her.

He hid the rose down by his leg, she had not seen it. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking; it was insensitive."

"No, I'm sorry." Her gaze connected with his. "I know you were trying to help. It just reminded me so much of him, that I… sorry."

"Don't be."

"But, I told you to go and die!"

"I know that you didn't mean it." He spoke softly to reassure her.

"I _did_ mean it." Her voice was cracking. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Her eyes were once again watering. "But…"

He pressed his forefinger against her lips, silencing her. He didn't want to see her crying ever again. She felt his finger on her pink lips. She had the desire to kiss that finger, but restrained herself. However, she could not stop her heavy breathing. Once satisfied that she had calmed, he took away his finger, much to her dismay.

"Don't be." He reached over, handing her the blossom, now devoid of its prior elegance.

She chuckled. "What exactly is this, dork?"

"Your rose, of course." He smiled.

"Man, you're cheap, giving me the same rose again. It's all broken up and everything, too. Should have just thrown it away." Regardless of her statement, she clasped it tightly, breathing in its surviving aroma. Hopefully, he didn't notice.

"What can I say," He ignited the engine. "you're just a cheap date."

"Hey!" She playfully punched him in the arm. It still stung, though.

He laughed with her, pulling the blue car out of the lot. The car travelled down the road, now lightly powdered with snow, eventually stopping at a traffic light. She stared out the glass next to her, watching the people walk by. Mainly couples holding hands, probably going off to have a romantic dinner of some kind. As the car moved down the way, she watched glasses being clinked, wine being drunk, deliciously sweet deserts being served, and lovers being fed by each other, all through the large windows of the fanciest restaurants in town. She felt a little deflated. It was Valentine's Day, and once she arrived at home, she would have to spend it alone. She was reminded that she didn't have a boyfriend, and that she had chased away all the other boys that had possibly been interested in her.

"We're here."

Sam had not felt the car stop. She looked over at him, then out the window at her house, then back at him. He was giving her his classic smile, which, she would never admit to him, she found adorable. _Maybe not _all_ the boys._ She smiled back at him. "Hey, Fredwardo. Come back here in two hours, okay?"

"Why?"

"Just do it, nub." She got out of the car, grabbed her things, and shut the door behind her. He was about to drive off, when she knocked on the window. After he rolled it down, she crossed her forearms on the sill, resting her head atop them. "Remember, back here in two hours. Got it?"

Chuckling, he said, "Yes, I got it. Two hours."

"Back here."

"Back here."

"Good." She backed away from the door, turned around and ran for the threshold of her house. He watched her run away from him, but he knew she wasn't really running away. For some reason, though, he started thinking of a ham. She waved at him, bag and jacket slung over her shoulder. He gave her a smile and waved back. About to roll his window back up, he saw her cup her hands around her mouth. "You're still a huge nub!" She then went inside her home, slamming the door loudly. He put his window up, shaking his head at her antics. The blue Ford rumbled contently and zoomed away. He was glad to have her back.

...

Black tires slowed to a stop by the concrete curb. The driver side door opened, and a young man with brown hair stepped out with a box in hand. He walked up the way to the front of the house. She was already waiting for him on the front step. Dressed all in white, the snow fell around her, framing her. Some of the flakes came to rest on her bare shoulders, melting by way of her heat. Her hair was put up, though, there were some unruly locks that refused to stay bound. He thought her an angel. He wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous, and perfect. They smiled at each other.

"You look nice."

The smile disappeared from her lips. Just, nice?

Realising his mistake, he attempted to mend things. "You clean up pretty well."

Her eyes dropped.

Things weren't going very well for him. "I mean…" He lifted up her chin. "you look amazing."

She smiled, and he felt relieved. That was the response he was looking for. One hand on the door knob, she held her other out for him. Normally, he would have been wary of a trap. He took her hand, anyway. She guided him into the house. Following behind her, he could see that the dress was cut as to somewhat show off the sleek lines of her toned back. He felt the urge to caress her, all of her. He merely swallowed hard, instead. The living room was fairly much how he remembered it. It had been so long since he had stepped foot in the Puckett household.

"Oh, I almost forgot." He stopped her, handing over the box. When she looked at him curiously, he answered, "I got it for you. Just open it."

Open it she did, to find a chocolate heart with the words 'Happy Valentine's Day' written upon it. "Dork, what's this for?"

"Every girl deserves chocolates on St. Valentine's Day." He smiled, and then nodded to the heart. "Take a bite."

She picked up the chocolate heart, taking a bite out of it. She tasted chocolate, of course, but also, something familiar, and crunchy. She smiled, swallowing it. "Is this bacon?"

His smile became a grin. "Yeah, bacon shaped like a heart, covered in chocolate. Do you like it?"

She laughed at him. "Yeah, I like it."

"Good."

Putting the chocolate back in the box, she looked at him. "You didn't have to get me this, you know."

"I wanted to."

"You already gave me the ribs, earlier."

He slapped himself in the forehead. "The ribs! I left them in the park when I ran after you!"

"It's okay," she reassured him. "I'm sure some lucky hobo will find them."

He still looked a little annoyed to her. She knew that he wanted to go back and get the ribs. She gave him a sweet smile and took his hand once again, telling him to 'come on, I want to show you something', continuing to guide him through the house. He was brought into the dining room, where there was a nice meal on the dinning table, candles placed in the centre. On closer inspection, the settings were for only two.

"Sam, what's going on?"

She let go of his hand, and walked over to the table. She placed the box on the table. Lighting the candles, she looked back at him. "I figured, since it's Valentine's Day, and neither of us have dates, and we were already together all day, maybe we could have a 'real date'."

"How do you know that I didn't already have a date?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She came up to him, staring into his dark brown eyes. "I mean it. A real date."

"You're serious."

"Why not?"

"This is because of earlier, right?" He backed away from her. "You're still vulnerable. I don't want to take advantage of you."

"Benson. I know what I'm doing. I found a guy I know cares about me. That wants me."

"Sam, I…"

She cupped his face in her hands, looking at him earnestly. "Dork… Freddie. I'm serious. You were always there for me, even if I didn't want you to. Now, I want you to. I want to be with you."

He knew that she really was serious. She actually wanted to be with him. She must have. She had called him by his real name. He nodded. "Okay, a _real_ date."

"Good." She took her hands away from his cheeks. With a clap of her hands, the room became darker.

"Did the lights just dim?"

"Duh, 'clap on, clap off'. I just got them put in."

"Do they even sell those things anymore?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You really are quirky sometimes, aren't you?"

"Hey, are you saying I'm weird?" She balled up her fist.

"No, no," He held up his hands in self-defence. "I just meant you can be 'unusual' sometimes."

"Same thing as weird."

"Well, then quirky is just weird, in a cute way."

She smiled. "You think I'm cute?"

He chuckled. "Of course."

She went up and wrapped her arms around his neck, he didn't stop her. "I can live with that."

He hesitantly let his hands slide along the smooth fabric of her dress, eventually landing on her hips. "Where'd you get this dress, anyway?" he asked, nervously.

"I got it a year ago. Got it to impress some guy, things didn't work out."

"Oh." He slid his thumb along the white cloth. "It looks great on you."

"Thanks."

"But, why wear it now?"

"I'm wearing it for a guy that deserves it."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Yeah, actually, I am," he admitted.

"Don't let it get to your head. It would explode." They both laughed softly at that.

"I want to tell you something."

"What?" She thought something might go wrong.

"When I got the Mustang, I knew you liked old cars. I kind of hoped that you'd like it."

She let out a small hiss. "I knew you were trying to get me into bed."

He panicked. "I wasn't, I swear! I'm not like him!"

She flicked him in the forehead to quiet him down. "I know." Things, though, did seem similar with the two. Things were the same, except for the romance. "You're right, there is a difference between you two."

"What?" He looked at her, expectantly.

She continued. "You both have the nice cars, the smooth talk, and the moves. The difference is, right now, you got me."

"I like the sound of that."

"You better."

"Sam, I really want you to know. I will never, ever, be like—"

"No," she interrupted him. "Never say his name, never talk about him again. From now on, he never existed. There's no him, just us." She laced her fingers together behind his neck.

Pulling him down closer, she felt his hot breath against her lips as they pressed together. He tasted sweet; she had never tasted anything like him. The kiss was gentle, and chaste. The kind of kiss she had expected from him. He kissed her lightly, soft lips connecting with hers. Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his head. It had been a year since she last felt a kiss, and she had missed it so. She wanted the kiss to keep going, but it was not to be. She felt her lips become bare, no longer covered by his. Her eyes opened to meet his, which denoted hesitation.

"What's wrong, Freddie?"

"I just don't want to push you into something you're not ready for."

She ran her fingers through his hair. "You're not pushing me if I want it. So, don't worry."

"Okay," He looked over at the dinner table. "but, shouldn't we be getting to dinner? Isn't it going to get cold?"

"The food can wait."

"Hang on a second," He couldn't help but be surprised. "did Sam Puckett just say that food could wait?"

"Look, I'm calling the shots around here. Besides, you asked _me_ to be _your_ Valentine. That means, tonight, you're mine."

"Hmm." He mused out loud to himself. "Looks like, I finally got my hands 'on' the merchandise."

Through her dress, she felt his hands shift on her hips. "Looks like it."

"You know, this was all Carly's idea, really. She suggested it earlier today, she said it was so that you could 'get back in the game', but I kind of think that she already knew how I felt about you."

"Well then," She smiled seductively at him, pulling him down to her once again. "remind me to thank her."

At first, the kiss was soft, and she thought that it would be delicate once again. He instead grasped her hips forcefully, pulling her into him. Her eyes were wide with surprise, for she had not expected him to be so aggressive. Her eyelids soon relaxed, closing as she fell into the moment. His fingers pressed into her flesh, turning it white underneath. Normally, it would be painful, but she instead was more aroused by it. She moaned into him, and he could feel the vibrations. He responded in kind, and they went on in such a manner, speaking to one another without words. He slid his hands up and down her sides, feeling her body beneath the thin material of her dress. He wanted to tear it from her, rendering it into nothing. She would kill him were he to do that. He settled for running his thumbs along her ribcage.

Their lips endlessly came together and apart, gasps and pants in between. Her heart raced, beating so loudly that she could hear it. She didn't know that he could be like that, didn't know that he could be so assertive. His hands became more adventurous, gliding to the small of her back. She could feel that he was releasing all his passion and love, and pouring it into her. Pent up feelings and desires he could never explain nor understand finally let loose. She felt urges and sensations of which she had never thought she were capable. His fingers made their way the length of her back, caressing the tense muscles and smooth skin. She trembled in his arms once again, that time for a different reason. She gripped his hair firmly in her fingers, pulling him into her. She wished to fuse their lips together, forever. The moment was more powerful, more intense, than any other moment she had ever experienced before. It felt good, it felt right.

Nearby, the candles on the table had melted and gone out, and their dinner had long become cold. Neither seemed to mind, as they were both immersed in each other. They never did get around to eating that night. Things had changed, and they never would be the same again. They were lost in their own little world, just the two of them. No longer did she feel empty. An entire year later, and she had finally been filled. As the moon rose high up in the night sky, two newly found lovers explored the depths of their feelings for one another. Elsewhere, in her room, deep in the back of her closet where no one could find it, was a box. Inside, there lay a rose, somewhat trampled, a little battered and worn, but still just as beautiful.

Maybe no boy would ever be 'man' enough for her.

Maybe, though, he could be just about 'Freddie' enough for her.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, and I hope that you will continue to read my works in the future.**


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